Cycles of Entropy

I found my heart beating faster as I approached the gravekeeper's home. My last meeting with this woman had been... unusually tense. I arrived earlier in the day this time, so I didn't need to help her with the hole and the flowers behind the grave. She wasn't out front, so I knocked on the door. Paint chipped as I did, which didn't ring quite true to me. There was no answer at first, so I looked around the porch. As I did I noticed other things. A loose board, dirty glass, a dying plant. I hadn't noticed the first time because they were all such minor things. In fact, they were all perfectly normal for the average home.

Few people have either the money or time and know-how to fully maintain their homes. It was a lot of little things as well, rather than anything major. It was all of them together that felt wrong to me. Or rather, all the signs of minor neglect with the backdrop of the perfectly maintained cemetery. The same woman who put such care into keeping every grave immaculate had allowed her own home to fall into disrepair. It felt... unjust. But I decided that was probably why. She likely put so much effort and time into it that she simply had none left for little annoyances. It wouldn't be uncommon.

As I was considering this, I was a bit surprised when the door finally opened. It had been nearly five minutes by this point, and I didn't think anyone was home. "Can I help you?" Margaret immediately interrogated. Her voice told a tale of irritation while that her eyes... almost denied. They were glassy as they peeked out over puffy red lids. She was a hair short of glaring but I had clearly walked in on her crying. I thought back on my previous interactions with her. Her argument with Hadley and our terse conversation later in the day. She didn't seem happy in any of them, but she had been more... stable. There was something I had missed in between.

All of these loops, dropping in on people at their worst, and I had never noticed. It wasn't that strange. Every single person in Beddenmor was living these three days alongside me, and they had full lives of their own. I had just stepped in and out when I felt I was needed, but aside from Harrison and the girls I had never used the time to really get to know any of them. Not even Livia. I wanted that to change, if it was possible. Something about sitting with Sisen and talking this morning... I wanted to be a part of Beddenmor. I didn't want to help just so I didn't have to feel worthless anymore. I had grown to care about people here, and in a way, I had grown to care about the dying city.

"Are you... alright?" I asked instead of answering her question. "Did something happen?" Margaret sniffed in response.

"Do you need something, or not?" she snapped at me and I immediately bit my lip. I wanted to press her but... I didn't know if that was the right thing to do. So I didn't. Instead, I simply answered her question.

"U- umm... I need your help. Or, uh, I guess, I need help with funeral arrangements..." I trailed off as her irritation grew more visible.

"I'm the groundskeeper, not a funeral home," she dismissed. "Why does no one know the difference?"

"O-oh," I stuttered a little taken aback. "Um, can you tell me where they are? It's just... a woman was killed by the Quiet, and..." I paused as she furrowed her brow at the mention of the Quiet, then rushed to head off the question I thought was coming. "I know, not everyone believes in the Quiet, but... she is dead, and I can't just leave her body there. I have to do something, and something respectful, you know?" I finished. Her furrowed brow had shifted to a scowl while I was speaking.

"This woman, she is still there? Where she died?" She asked and I nodded.

"Yes... or, she was when I left to come here. She is further north so it took nearly an hour to get here. I don't have a carriage or horse or anything. But she was there," I assured.

"How long did you wait?" she pushed.

"Um, I was with her courter at the time, and she needed help, so I was there for nearly half an hour after she well..." I responded. Margaret's face turned serious immediately and she pushed past me.

"Take me there," she demanded and I hurried after her.

"Oh, alright. Thanks for the help," I said. She had asked me to take her to Cyri, but she walked ahead of me with enough purpose that I didn't question her. After only a few minutes, I understood why as we made it to an old stable with a cart parked out front. It only had room for a few horses, and she went about the work of hitching the cart to two of them. I felt a bit awkward waiting. I'd started the conversation by asking this woman why she had been crying, but somehow I had found myself nervously following her around. She just had a commanding presence about her.

"Get on," she ordered and I climbed into the passenger seat in the front. "Tell me the way," she said once I was on with the reins in her hand. I complied, directing her to the fountain where I had left the body. We drove in silence for a few minutes, the trip and sights passing us by far more quickly than when I was on foot. I had to close my eyes and fight off the familiar guilt I felt as we passed a couple of places where I could be stopping another death. But I had decided to fully commit myself to one problem each loop, and I planned to stick with it.

When we finally arrived, Cyri's body was still there and I let out a sigh of relief. Margaret, on the other hand, paled. "What happened?" She asked, "This isn't supposed to happen!" there was panic in her voice as she said this and I looked at her with confusion. But I thought I understood.

"No. It isn't. But it's happening. I'm just glad we can send her off with a little more dignity than the Quiet usually allows," I answered, and Margerat looked at me sharply.

"What do you mean?" she pressed and I jumped a little at the harshness in her voice.

"Oh, uh... Usually, when this happens, well... something happens to them. Something... wrong. I'm a mage, so if I get there in time, I can undo it, which is why she is still here," I fumbled, and her eyes bulged. She climbed down from her seat and approached the body. I nervously climbed down myself, assuming she would want help moving Cyri into the back.

"Does this look better to you" She shouted, gesturing at the corpse. "Left as a hollow corpse? Abandoned, and empty? This is more dignified?" Spittle flew from her mouth and spattered across my face as she yelled and I shrank back.

"I don't-" I began but she didn't let me finish.

"I have spent my life around the dead. Since I was a girl and my sister chose not to inherit dad's position. I shouldered that burden for her. For everyone. I have seen the dead many, many times. I know what they look like, and it's always better than this. It is always more 'dignified'. You're telling me you did this? You forced a woman back into this... horrifying, soulless state and you think you did something good?" I didn't understand. I figured out she knew about whatever was happening to the dead after the Quiet took them but...

"What? But they become so violent! So furious and heartbroken! That's worse than death! Even this death!" I protested, more out of confusion than anger and she slapped me across the face.

"Heartbroken? What in Aethon's name are you talking about? They escape an empty death! The only anger they feel is at the Quiet! This sick disease that steals not just their life, but burns their very souls. They are robbed of Aethon's light and Luna's gift. They have a chance to escape, and you take it from them! What is wrong with you?" she challenged. Then, as I am standing in shock, she turns and teal aura erupts from her like a wave on a cliffside. I take a step back, horrified as, without a single chant, aura flows from her like a furious river, drowning the body before her in its glow.

I felt that feeling coming on. Like my skin trying to crawl its way off of my body. The panic I had been managing so well crept from my open mouth like scurrying spiders enveloping me. The read, bloodied eyes, the anger, the sorrow. It all came back to the furious Cyri. Margaret was responsible for this? For all of this? My mind rejected this. She hadn't ever been nice, not when I was around, but she was kind. She felt kind, anyway. It takes an inherent kindness and empathy to dedicate yourself to the dead like she had. But here she was, torturing them. I couldn't understand,

Then, as Cyri again lurched toward me, violence clear in her eyes, something just as horrible happened. Because Margaret wasn't done casting. Unlike me, she could cast without a chant. And instead of animating a corpse, this time the earth beneath my feet started to crackle and crack. I recognized it. I had seen it so many times, but I couldn't accept it. I barely knew this woman, but I felt like I did. When I looked at the graves. I felt like I understood her sorrow. Everything seemed unreal and just like that an attack was on me.

I was outside of my body again. Watching my lips desperately chant a spell, my blue aura swimming through the teal, like oil in water. My body didn't feel like mine, but I still felt the hairs rise and the skin tighten. I had to get out of there. I didn't want to die again, not like that. I had to get away. I felt the aura flow from me as the earth crumbled beneath me and Margaret glared. Cyri charged, her hands gripping my hair and pulling.

"Be grateful I am kinder than you," Margaret snarled, "I am saving you from the Quiet, and you won't take salvation from anyone else. Your death, and everyone else's, will be spared from the emptiness you tried to leave this woman with."

I didn't have an answer for her as tears ran down my cheeks. All I could think about was the crunching, the bleeding, the pain, and the face of the woman who had inflicted it on me over, and over again. I watched my lips chant, and they weren't a whisper, they were a desperate scream. My head was yanked forward as Cyri pulled, my body ached, my footing gave out and I began to fall. Time felt slow but not because of magic. I had to get away. I screamed, and screamed, until the world, finally, came to a halt. I had finished 'Still World'.

Margaret was still, her face contorted with rage. My hair was still in Cyri's fist, the nails of her other hand headed for my face. I wanted to breathe a sigh of relief. I wanted to sob. I wanted to collapse. But there was no 'Air in still world, and I wasn't safe yet. I searched my body for a knife, for anything shard to cut my hair, but there was nothing. I couldn't chant to save the woman holding me either. I couldn't even breathe. There was only one thing I could do.

I pulled. A little at a time, I gripped bundles of the hair she was holding and tore it from my head. It was a mild pain compared the crushing opening up below me. I tore, then I tore again, until she held so little I could tear the rest out just by pulling my head. My scalp bled down my face but I lacked the breath to cry out.

But I was free, and I ran. And as I ran, I tried to count everything yellow that I passed.